Lost But Found
by NotascrazyasI
Summary: What a way to break the ice, huh? XD RussiaXCanada. Almost character death, but NOT! Read, you must!


_**Lost but Found**_

_**CanadaXRussia. The reason for this fic is I've always had a problem of putting myself into my characters, so I am doing two characters that are nothing like me, though I do think Canada is frickin' awesome~(I don't have much of a opinion on Russia...) **_

**_Also, I have no idea how old Canada is, I just kinda based it off of his appearance which I interpret as a teen -like say 17 or 18. So please don't be all upset about the comment I made on his age._**

**_Almost forgot! I don't own Hetalia. I just own my brain, though sometimes I wish I didn't._**

He'd really done it this time. He had finally gotten his clumsy ass into a mess that he couldn't get out of. After all those years of quick thinking and gut instinct, the thing that had done him in was his own stupidity and his damn glasses. He only gave himself a moment to reflect on what had brought him to his untimely demise, but that was really all he needed.

**Rewind**

_Canada -Matthew actually- was a secret adventurer. He loved everything about his territory, but he especially loved the deep, untouched forests that he protected from the loggers so adamant on cutting scars into his land. This was his escape from the anger brought on by being unnoticed, from being a ghost. In his snow covered retreat, everything was dulled. The sound of his feet on the ground, the sound of the Canis lupus occidentalis (known as the Canadian Timber Wolf) trotting beside him and sniffing the snow blanketed ground for anything worth eating._

_He had rescued the young she-wolf as a pup from one of his own people's trap and nursed her back to health. By the time the wound healed, she had grown quite attached to him and decided she'd prefer to stay by his side. That was alright with him, at least _someone _remembered him. Thus the reason he left Kumajiro at home whenever he fled everyday life._

_On this particular visit, the she-wolf -which he had affectionately named Phalyn- appeared to be subdued, as if she could already sense her master's future danger. She refused to come along with him to the deeper parts of a more northern forest than the norm. Choosing instead to sit beside a tree and whine, begging him to go no further. But, he ignored the poor wolf and delved deeper into the silent woods. This was his first mistake.  
_

_His second came much deeper into the depths of the forest, and was also easily corrected at the time. If he wished to correct it, for at the time he hadn't even realized he had made a mistake, thus was his idiotism. What was this mistake, you might ask? It was similar to the first, in the way of him choosing to ignore another sign hinting at the doom he had walked straight to. Snow._

_As a child, he had loved snow. Even with the bite of cold it brought, the pristine white flakes just drew him in. Their silent dance as they fell to the earth to join their brethren fascinated him beyond words to describe. How he loved to run outside, away from the warmth of his home, and fling himself into the gathered powder. He would come back up for air with a tinkling laugh and a cold reddened face. But now, as an older teen -and a adventurer at that- Matthew realized the hidden danger of snow. It brought frostbite and hypothermia and all kinds of things you did not want while far away from population. Still, despite knowing all of this, he decided to ignore it and continued his hiking._

_The overhang was invisible to Matthew -even as he stood right on top of it- due to the fact that the heavy snow had covered it in it's white blanket and blinded him with the sun's reflection._

_The fall wasn't far enough to kill him, if that's what you're thinking. It was what he fell onto -and through- that was what brought him to the edge of death. A lake -closer to a pond really- that had frozen over and been concealed by the same snow that, if you put stupidity to the side, this whole thing could be blamed on. The ice was not thick enough to withstand the force of a hundred pound (give or take) Canadian slamming down on top of it. It broke easily and Matthew -with nothing left to hold him up- fell into the dark freezing waters._

**Play**

The impact stunned the poor man, as was the reason he did nothing but sink for the first few seconds after his fall. The thing that forced his senses back upon him was the cold seeping through his thick clothing. What the hell was he doing?! He had to get out of this water right away or the likelihood of his death would be... 100%.

Despite this desperate thought, and his sudden frantic thrashing, he couldn't figure out which way was up. It appeared the lake was much deeper than it was wide. For all he knew, he could be swimming even closer to his death than surface and his survival. The water was too dark and murky to see through, even when he blinked. His thrashing didn't help either. _And_ to make matters worst for the drowning man, he had no air left in his lungs due to the harsh impact. The great feat of getting out of this damned pond seemed impossible.

At least the searing cold was quickly replaced by a numbness, even if the aforementioned numb feeling made panic wrestle itself in to his already oxygen-deprived chest. It ached from the both of them more painfully than he had ever felt. But, as his stupidity came crashing down on him, self-loathing followed. Hadn't it been France who always told him his childish antics would get him killed one day? Hadn't America told him to make himself known and cast aside his horrid shyness? If he had corrected either one, he wouldn't be on death's doorstep right now. If he wasn't so keen on strolling into the middle of a forest, he wouldn't have fallen into his own grave. If he had told someone-

The awful truth came with that last thought. Even if he _had _told someone, they wouldn't remember him. Nobody ever remembered him. It was a miracle whenever his own brother saw him. Hell, his own _bear _couldn't give a shit, so why would anyone else? If he _had_ tried to talk to someone, they wouldn't hear him. Even if he screamed -which he never did- they were deaf to his words. Nobody, not one single nation in the entire world knew where "Canada" was without looking at a map. There would be no savior for Matthew.

This thought pierced him fiercer than any knife could. The truth of it all left a bitter taste in his mouth as he stop flailing and let himself be completely taken by the cruel water. There was nothing left to do. No one will come looking for him, no one will notice his absence. Nothing could save him now. He was going to die, in this pond, without being so much as a thought in the back someone's mind. Perhaps his people would notice. They would diffidently notice the sudden crash in the economy and -most likely- the sudden rule of a nearby county, but would they really care about the shy teen that so few appeared to them? The answer was a no. Nobody would notice. Nobody would care.

With that as his last thought, the Canadian drifted off into the unconsciousness that had threatened him the entirety of his time in the lake. He found comfort in the nothingness, welcomed it. It numbed every pain he felt, even the emotional. There was just... nothing.

**FastForward **

It was warm, pleasantly so. This made him very happy. At least in death he would be away from the cold he had been encased in the last moments of his life. It appeared that death was a lot less cruel than life had been.

There wasn't just warmth, there was also the smell of snow -a smell that he still loved from his younger years- and a smell that belonged to something much warmer: Hot Chocolate. The aroma coming from the liquid was so strong and so close to his face, he could physically taste it on his tongue. Yearning built up in him and flowed from his lips in the form of a whine. There was nothing else he wanted at that moment more than he wanted the to gulp down the chocolate liquid and fill his stomach with the warmth it promised.

He heard a chuckle -an actual chuckle!- before a voice reached through his still foggy mind. "You are awake, da?" That accent. That voice. No, it couldn't be. It just wasn't possible. Matthew was dead! And last he checked, the owner of that voice was not.

In his shock riddled state, his eyelids fluttered open, bringing in an unfamiliar scenery. He was on his back on something soft, so all he saw at first was a wooden ceiling, similar to the cabin he himself lived in. The wood was stained darker than his own and it didn't have the cling of loneliness everything in his house did.

Matthew turned his head slowly to the side, only to meet the back of a dull gray couch. Twisting his head the other way, his gaze caught on to twin amethysts. More specifically, amethyst colored irises. He recognized this childlike gaze easily from all the meetings he had ever been to. It was the Russian that always appeared to terrify everyone in the room. _Except _Matthew.

When Matthew spoke, his voice was a croak that scratched at his throat painfully. Still, he had to ask. "Am I dead?"

The violet eyes -so similar to his own- widened in shock, before they filled with amusement. "I do not think so. Unless I am dead too. That is not likely, da?"

Slowly, Matthew sat up, the blanket that had previously been resting over his torso fell down to his legs. He instantly missed the warmth it gave off, but his current surroundings seemed more pressing than warmth at that exact moment. It appeared to be a cabin just like, as he previously compared it to, the cabin he currently resided in. It was merely one room, with a bathroom added on as an afterthought. To the right of him was a heavily quilted bed in the corner, a small, frost dusted window, and a bookcase stocked so fully with books it seemed ready to crumble under their weight. To his right there was a dresser, two doors (one leading to the bathroom, the other outside), and rug on the floor looking incredibly homey and seeming uncharacteristic for the man that sat directly in front of Matthew. Speaking of in front of him, there was a roaring fireplace, the mantle loaded down with various knickknacks, framed photographs, and a silver edged mirror.

With his survey of the room completed and a new idea for the Russian's personality, he turned to look once again at the man in front of him. Not a single nation knew anything about his neighbor except for that which they had found out from espionage and that had nothing to do with one's personality. It wasn't really important to know how a nation acted on his or her own time, but for some reason as the Canadian returned his gaze to the irises that so mirrored his own he found himself yearning to know about this tall, solid man that seemed so scary to those throughout the rest of the world. It was odd indeed for the younger, shorter, more naive nation to wrap his mind around. What was this strange, fluttery feeling inside his chest?

As his mind raced to find an answer to this question, the Russian had shifted his position on the ground so that he was kneeling in front of Matthew. That same accented voice reached his ears, making him pause in his search for an answer. "You are Canada, da?"

Canada blinked, confusion clouding his purple eyes mixing with the shock that since he woke up had permanently taken up residence there. "You... know me?" He asked in that soft voice of his that never carried very far. Still, the Russian heard him, tilting his head to the side in a childish way.

"Da...? Why would I not?"

Canada couldn't believe how thick-headed this man was. Or maybe the Russian was just purposely doing this to make fun of him. His face turned a little red at that last thought. It was bad enough that his bother mocked him whenever he happened to remember the near-invisible teen, he didn't want this huge nation to do the same thing. "You know why." He whispered, his easy-going nature not allowing him to voice -or even really show- his rising anger.

At this, the Russian looked legitimately confused. "I do not know why." He responded, a little bit of hurt in his violet eyes. Canada picked up on it easily, due to his close relations with that same emotion. He couldn't count the amount of times which his eyes had filled with it. Thanks to this knowledge, guilt prickled through him.

So, he decided to explain. "Nobody ever notices me. It's as if I don't exist or am simply invisible. When I was drowning..." He trailed off remembering the feeling of suffocation, the water filing his lungs- he shook his head fiercely. "How did you find me? How did you see me there in the water? Why did you save me? Why are you helping me now?" The Russian just looked a little overwhelmed by the bombardment of questions, so Canada decided to focus on the main one. "Are you going to hurt me?"

This time, when his eyes widened with shock, amusement did not follow. Hurt did. Obviously the question had hurt the man's feelings for some reason. In Canada's mind it had been a valid question, but apparently not. "You think that little of me, da?" He asked, a tremor of anger in his voice. Most would be terrified to hear any form of anger from this man, but it just made Canada feel bad. He had obviously hurt this man's feelings.

He quickly shook his head. "It's not that. I just... can't figure out why you'd help me. I'm a nobody." This sentence depressed him more than he'd care to admit. It was true. He was a nobody, a nobody that everyone managed to forget no matter how many times he tried to talk to them.

"I helped you because you were dying and..." When he trailed off, Canada stared at his suddenly insecure face. That was strange. But, the Russian quickly shook it off and continued on, "because if you died, someone would take over your land." That didn't make much sense.

"Why do you care if someone got my land?" He couldn't help but ask.

The Russian bit his lip and turned his gaze down to his lap where he played with a loose thread on his precious scarf. "A-ah, well..."

Canada didn't appear to notice the awkwardness of the nation in front of him. He had too many thoughts on his mind right now. "What are you even doing here in the first place? In Canada, I mean. Obviously you didn't come to visit me." Ouch. Even though it was he had said it, it still hurt. A lot.

Russia looked up at this, a small shiver running down his spine as he remembered. He sunk down in his seat a little bit, his mouth hiding underneath the fabric of his scarf, thus having his next words come out slightly muffled. "I hide here, because my crazy sister was trying to make me marry her again." He replied glancing around the room as if by simply speaking of her, he would summon her. "And well, Canada was pretty far away from my home so I thought she wouldn't be able to find me..."

A almost bitter smile came to the smaller man's face. He hadn't known it, yet he picked the one place on earth that no one would think to look for him at, that no one would even _remember. _That's pretty damn impressive. "She doesn't even know this place exists, she'll never find you. Trust me." And suddenly, that sentence was more than an add-on to the previous one. Suddenly, Canada actually wanted this giant man to trust him. _That's silly... _He told himself.

Russia smiled happily, the scarf slipping from his face as he did so. "That is good. I do not wish for her to find me here." Cue another shiver. Frankly, he was showing up the actual hypothermic man with all his shivering.

Oh, that's right. Perhaps he should focus. "How did you find me then?" Canada asked. He had been pretty deep into a forest that had no name, nor a place on any map. Plus he was under the ice. How the hell the Russian even _got _him out piqued his interest.

The larger man blinked, before he smiled once again. "The sights of Canada are beautiful, as are the forests. I was walking through one when I saw a wolf sitting at the base of a tree, as if waiting for me." Canada realized he was talking about Phalyn and the thought dawned on him that maybe his wolf was psychic. At the very least, she just saved his life. "She started to whine, and nudged me deeper in the woods."

Canada had to stop him. "You let a wolf nudge you into the woods?" His voice raised about an octave in surprise.

Russia just stared at him. "Da." Then he went back to his story. "She led me to the edge of a frozen over lake and continued to whine, even scratched at the ice as if she was trying to dig something up. So I walked out to where she was and saw a body bobbing underneath it. I got you out of there as fast as I could but you didn't wake up for a few days."

"A few _days_?!" Canada explained, louder than his usual whisper but still quiet compared to others (*Cough*America*Cough*).

Russia shrugged. "You wouldn't wake up, even after you stopped shivering. If it hadn't been for your pulse I would've thought you were dead."

"I'm so sorry I burdened you in such a way." He whispered anxiously. He couldn't believe he had forced (consciously or not) this man to take care of him for a few days. Why did he have to venture out into the middle of the woods?! God, he was such an idiot.

A gentle hand patted his head. "It's all right, Canada. Even asleep, you are nice company." Canada blinked up at the Russian, not entirely understanding what he meant. If he wanted company, why not just hang out with the Baltics or his sisters or someone? Surely, he had _someone _to hang out with!

"All of this still doesn't explain why your helping me now." Canada pointed out, raising an eyebrow. He found it hard to believe that the Russian man didn't have some arterial motive. Canada was full of rich soil and beautiful scenic areas, yes, but it was also a land full of things that would have other countries jealous out of their minds. If they remembered, that is.

"You needed my help of course." He replied, as if it was obvious. Well, to him it was. To Matthew it was still hazy.

"That's the _only _reason?"

The Russian narrowed his eyes slightly. "You still think very little of me." He replied angrily.

Canada met the stare this time without guilt. "You haven't given me much of a reason to trust you after that whole thing with my brother. For all I know, this is just you trying to get back at him for being the first one on the moon." All that was true, but it pleased Canada way too much speaking of himself as a pawn. To be a pawn, you must be seen.

Russia's eyes flamed at this and Canada had no idea why. In his mind, he had brought up a valid point, not knowing that such a thought filled Russia with disgust. "I would never do such a thing!" He yelled, making the younger teen flinch and cringe away. He was used to his brother's loud voice, but it almost never held anger.

Matthew watched with fear filled eyes as horror washed over the other man's face. Backing away from him, Russia shook his head. "I- I'm sorry!"

This caused Matthew to blink. Then a small smile graced his pale lips. "You're nothing like what my brother thinks of you." He whispered, chuckling softly to himself. Matthew had tried to learn more about the Russian he always saw at the meetings by asking his brother. At the time, he hadn't realized that, "What's Russia like?" meant, "Tell me a story about the most horrifying monster you can think of." There had been blood, death, and even cannibalism. His brother could really tell a story when he wanted to.

Russia shot Matthew a confused look, but he just shook his head. A silence followed that wasn't the least bit awkward.

Suddenly, the silver-haired man broke the silence. "You are done with your questions, da? So it is okay for me to do the asking now."

_**Okay, dammit. This wasn't suppose to be so long. I guess it'll be a two-shot, maybe even a three-shot. But DAMN! This took absolutely FOREVER to write! I mean, **_**months_! Wah, I just wanted it to be a quick one-shot so I don't have to deal with it in the back of my mind all the time. Oh well, I'm so tired of writing this, so I'll get the second part out eventually..._**


End file.
